Free Mystery of the Phantom Heist by Franklin W. Dixon

Olaf didn’t take us seriously now, he sure wouldn’t with our mommy and daddy speaking for us.
    “Mom, Dad—no,” I said.
    “No what?” Dad asked.
    “No thanks,” Frank said. “Joe and I will talk to the chief tomorrow.”
    “But you said he won’t listen to you!” Mom said.
    “Oh, let them go, Laura,” Aunt Trudy said, smiling in our direction. “If at first you don’t succeed—try, try again!”
    After the fire truck left, Frank and I climbed the stairs to our rooms. The smoke smell from the garage had wafted all the way into the house.
    “Of all nights for us to be out,” Frank said. “If I hadn’t gone to meet Sierra, I might have caught the Scaredevils in the act.”
    I remembered my tablet and pulled it out. “Maybe we still can,” I said. “Catch them in the act, I mean.”
    In Frank’s room I searched YouTube for slickbro13’s latest “hit.” It didn’t take long to find the clip I was looking for—a bunch of bandanna-wearing punks running away from our garage as the bottom edge of the door began to smolder.
    “No cheering in the background this time,” I pointed out. “They probably didn’t want to attract Mom’s and Dad’s attention.”
    Frank moved closer to the tablet. “I did hear something on there,” he said. “It sounded like someone’s voice.”
    I replayed the clip and listened. “I don’t hear anything,” I admitted.
    “Wait, here it comes,” Frank cut in.
    Quickly I turned up the volume. That’s when I heard someone snicker and say, “Hah! This ought to keep the cops busy!”
    That was a voice I’d know anywhere. It belonged to the gang’s now infamous ringleader, Colin Sylvester!
    “That’s Colin on the tape, Frank,” I declared. “What do you think he means about keeping the cops busy?”
    “Who knows?” Frank said. “But at least we have some proof for Olaf that Colin was in on this.”
    “And this time,” I said, smiling as I held up my tablet, “we’ll convince the chief to watch the clip!”
    •   •   •
    We usually slept in on Saturdays, but this morning Frank and I were up at the crack of dawn. With Aunt Trudy now in the house, we were treated to an awesome breakfast of buckwheat pancakes and banana smoothies.
    “Where’d you get these ingredients, Aunt Trudy?” Frank asked.
    “I climbed the ladder up to my apartment,” Aunt Trudy pretended to whisper. “Don’t tell your mom and dad.”
    Mom and Dad came into the kitchen. When they wished Frank and me luck with Chief Olaf, I had a feeling we were going to need it—even with the clip we had of Colin at the scene of the crime.
    When Frank and I arrived at the station, we walked straight to the front desk. An officer was drinking from a goofy coffee cup. On it was a pair of handcuffs and the words ONE SIZE FITS ALL .
    “Good morning,” Frank said. “We’re here to see Chief Olaf.”
    Before the officer could look up from his cup, the chief himself marched right past us, followed by an angry Sanford Peyton!
    “What else do you want me to do, Mr. Peyton?” Chief Olaf asked.
    “Plenty!” Sanford replied. “My daughter’s party is tomorrow night. You can schedule the number of officers you assured us a month ago.”
    “That was before all the pranks started happening aroundhere,” Chief Olaf said. “I can’t afford to put my force in one place when stores and cars are being trashed on a daily basis.”
    “I understand,” Sanford said. “But all we have now is one officer for the whole party.”
    “And a good number of private security guards, I’m sure,” Chief Olaf said. He gave a chuckle. “It’s a Sweet Sixteen, Mr. Peyton. What’s the worst that could happen—someone tries to melt the ice sculpture?”
    “Funny, Olaf,” Sanford said gruffly. “If this is what I pay my taxes for, I can easily retract my donation to the Bayport Police Department.”
    I could see the chief’s face pale. He seemed to force a quick smile before saying, “Mr. Peyton,